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COF\'R!GHT DEPOSfT 



THE LUTANIST 



ALICE WILSON 




BOSTON 
RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 



Copyright, 1914, by Alice Wilson 



All Rights Reserved 






The Gorham press, Boston, U. S. A, 

JAN -2 1915 J<-<5^ 

©aA393028 



CONTENTS 

Hero to Leander 7 

Primavera 12 

At Perugia— A Reverie 15 

Invocation 21 

Hermit Thrush 23 

The Fuchsia's Prophesy 27 

The River Path 29 

The Gleaner 00 

Stars '^ X 

The Harper ^2 

Song : The Desirous 33 

Patterans -^4 

Hidden Meadow 35 

The Pear Tree in Blossom 36 

Half Light nq 

''Fin al Marina" .* .' 40 

Two Gardens 41 

Water Fete 42 

An Egyptian Tomb . a-> 

Poet ;;; y^ 

Rondeau, To Mme. J ^6 

Pond Lilies, To Lucy W 57 

Youth, To Theo ^^8 

Moon-Dreams 59 

Hope's Year 60 

Autumn Undertone 61 

Three Prayers 62 

Sister Wings 63 

Transmutation 64 



CONTENTS 

Whom He Loveth 65 

Inner Peace 66 

The Camel Driver 67 

"Araignee du Soir, Espoir" 68 

Bee Song 69 

In Trinity Garden, Oxford 70 

Errant Artemis 72 

The White House Garden in May 74 

Ode to Polymnia 76 

TO CHILDREN 

Little Lives 81 

Child Song 81 

Wayside Song 82 

Playmates 82 

Blossoms 83 

Secret Voyage 84 

A Duet 85 

Church Bells 85 

Ships 86 

Light and Shadow 87 

The Earth and Little Children 87 

A Change of Mind 88 

Summer Morning 8q 

In May, To Eleanor 90 

Wattie's Garden 91 

Peggy Sweet 93 

Brotherhood 94 

Clover's Humming Song 95 

Garden Song . 96 



THE LUTANIST 



HERO TO LEANDER 

Was it yestermorn at Aphrodite's shrine 

I stood a Vestal 'mid the flowery feast, 

Cool-bosomed as a Goddess in her stone? 

The chanting hushed, the garlands hung a'dream, 

As into my young hands the solemn priest 

Presented honors. Serene as morning star 

I stood to pour libations and let fall 

Rich incense into purifying flame. 

Yet e'er I served I raised my pious eyes 

As ever toward my Goddess. — Lo ! instead 

(Oh, how the sweet remembrance startles yet I) 

My lifted gaze was caught upon thy gaze 

And burning hung for one eternal moment. 

Leander, my beloved, from what star 

Came thy dear birth upon me? Suddenly 

The sound of priest's voice drew me back to vows ! 

All while I fed the flame its holy food 

Mine eyes close-shut their all dismayed sight 

Seeking their olden memories and vows. 

Where went they? Where my goddesses beloved? 

Where the pure calm of statued presences? 

Ah fled, before thine own white-passioned face. 

Godlike yet far more dearly beautiful, 

Whose worship newly bound me. 

Oft had I scorned 
To hear how sporting nymphs, in deep recesses 
Of rock-cleft woodland sacred to their kind. 
Full swiftly were caught back by prisoning reach 
Of forest half-god — and their play was lost. 

7 



Even so was I caught up from simple play 
Of temple service to thy soul's high plain ! 

Didst dream, Leander, while thou sawest me there, 

How I stood overwhelmed before the throng? 

My frightened purity, like flocks of doves. 

Flew through me, o'er me, hiding with their wings 

All the young faces of my sisters; — thine, 

Immovable and adoring, not. 

Some shock of wonder drew the feast apart. 

I trembled. Thou didst tremble too, and went, 

Oh slowly, slow, with oft-returning glance 

Which I, too, greeted, long and slow and sweet. 

How chilly grown the temple seemed, bedimmed 
By long reflections of the marble shrines ! 
Scentless the garlands hung, heavy the air 
With faded incense ; mute the silence fell 
From the dumb lips of carven goddesses! 
Like song unuttered in a birdling's throat 
Rose sudden sweetness from the thought of thee, 
And with a sob I fled. 

How far, Leander, 
Measures the world from this high tower down ? 
It seems a bud I plucked and left to float 
Upon the sea waves when I blindly climbed 
Up to my home of bare-walled chastity. 
All day I wove my dreams and wrought thereon 
Thy lily-face plucked cool from memory. 
All day instead of prayer I murmured low 
Thy name, Leander, and the air grew sweet 
With first faint stir of scents awake at dawn. 

8 



Long had I sat alone, shut In and high 

In awful sanctity. The late hours fell 

And found me each one prayerless as the last. 

The last watch waned and waned; when soft the 

casement 
Was opened as a rose 'neath some warm touch. 
I heard the swift, dark rush of buried waves 
As a coiling monster far beneath. 
The star-set night looked in. I raised my eyes 
Thinking to take the air with soft drawn breath. 

It was my lily bloomed against the dark ! 
It was my soul's star set so near mine own! 
For fairness, it had been a young god's face 
Drawn near to me to claim my vestalhood, 
But for the swift, pure mortal rush of bliss 
Which deathless Gods are powerless to bestow. 
I trembled as a wakened wood-pool stirred 
From tranquil dimness through its shimmering 

depth 
By one gold-shafted star. Thy voice's breath 
Fluttered my pulses as a million leaves 
Would be disturbed beneath a breeze's breath. 

"Good night, dear Nymph"; thus slow thy silver 

words, 
Scarce trusting to the silence, fell to me 
In such sweet speech it would have held us long, 
But that each moment still more tensely moved 
Beneath new wonder. So we were drawn on 
To nearer utterance, until each of each 
Craved delicate contact, and thou enteredst ! 



The marvel of thee melted, as thou stoodst 
Sea-drenched, alive, who had been only dream. 
And all in sudden horror had closed my joy 
But that thy wooing voice grew pitiful. 
Thou seemedst so chill and drear, my breast so 

warm, 
I shrank no more. Swift then thine arms of flame 
Leapt round me. — As the morning star, low-hung 
Upon the border of the out-lived night 
In acme of tense shining, fades at last 
In the embracing glory of the sun, 
So I In thee, Leander. 

Then was It that I heard 
The soft brush of the velvet-footed Gods 
Departing from the room. With solemn sweep 
Their garments nectar-dyed trailed after them 
And slow the gleam of their sun-burnished hair 
Retired wistfully. Yet once they turned, 
With gracious arms held toward me; (Oh thine 

arms 
Sweetlier bound me) and look of divine awe 
Whose fire was cold, they bent. But as of yore 
From their proud lips they gave no utterance, 
And vanished hungered, balked, but beautiful. 
Sweet doth the memory of that earliest night 
Come to me now, as scent of roses gone. 



lO 



How the tower rocks 
Beneath a wind Inimical to love ! 
My lamp's gold flare battles against the dark 
Even as thou, white-limbed, art tossed by waves 
That breast thy coming. 

I have never known 
Such deep, unending dark to smite the world; 
Or felt long length of time uncoil so slow 
And slower coil again to stretch more slow 
Twixt me and thee, a never-ending span ! 
How the tower rocks I 



II 



PRIMAVERA 

TO E. C. 

Never was such a Spring 

Leapt in a moment to life, 
Ran like a flame of joy 

Over the earth and fled 
Into the air with a song! 

There it paused, and lo ! 
It clings ! With feathery breath 

Sways and lilts in the winds 
And clings ! Brushes the world 

Under and over. Stays 
On the earth at the feet 

As a dancing sea. 
Bursts into buds overhead, 

Ripples out millions of leaves. 
Amasses ethereal folds 

Of billowy mists of bloom ; 
Pierces the sullen sod 

With staffs of exquisite splendor, 
Beckons the eye to delight 

In discerning the dawn of its wonder; 
Breaks the web of the air 

Into ethereal beauty; 
Sings and fills the branches 
With gushes of golden light; 

Sets the young birds wild 
With their first sweet singing; — 

Lifts the heart of the man, 
Urges his feet to lightness. 
Lures him along to his joy, 

12 



Sends him flute for piping, 
Sets him atune to his dreams. 

Never was such a maid, 

Veiled In the vision of life; 
Masked with the grace of the flowers, 

Nimbussed, brimming, alert; 
Touching hands with the East, 

Giving gaze to the West; 
Flying words and a song 

To the South, to the North ; 
Gathering, giving, goes 

Over the blossoming world ; 
Singing the song of the stars. 

Winding the way of delight. 
Vision of motion hung 

Twixt down-dropped meaning of stars 

And full up-bloom of the earth; 
Set asway to the tune 

Of the lavish graces of girls; 

Fair as a sea-foam flower 
In-blown to the sweet-rooted earth. 

But tanged by the scent of the sea; 

Tresses of billowy bronze 
Held as you hold a bird 

Back by the wings from flight; 
Eyes of eternal mirth 

Touched with the largened glow 
Of a deserted star; 

Face out of wan star-gloom, 
Contour curved as a shell. 

Pearl bloomed, by the dream 
Of sea-swayed mysteries. 
13 



There, as she halts half-aVing, 
Love leans down to enfold her, 

Out of the soft-housed winds 
Reaches arms to uplift her 

High to undying height. 
She, Primavera the maid. 

Loth to leave or to linger, 
Pauses with scarce-touching feet 

On the delicate crest of the bloom. 

Spring in the upward flight 

Of a song-throated lark to the sky! 
Maid alit for a breath 

To break anew into flight! — 
Two ephemeral dreams 

Touching their ecstasy; 
And the earth caught between, — 

Pressed till it overbrims 
With blossom and leaf and song. 

Fair is the vernal vision, 
Sudden as shadow of heaven. 

Catching our breath we lean 
Forward to treasure its substance — 

Ah ! to the bosom eternal 
Soon it is ravished away, 

Kept for its coming again 
Rejuvenescent. 



14 



AT PERUGIA. REVERIE 

From here the whole of Umbria mates the sea 
With wonder of Its hills of heavenly blue; 
Which in the annals of old Umbrian art 
Lie caught and live in lovely effigy. 
Fruitful against the sea the dark earth lies 
All given o'er to pastoral intent. 
Upon the far-off hills the small white oxen 
Daintily tread. Within the level plains 
The breed of larger gray with widened horns 
In quiet strength their ancient burden draw 
In harmony with earth. Upon the slopes 
The flocks of brown sheep bend toward the her- 
bage 
To graze and move like shapes of things in dreams. 
Tender the winds that fan the peaceful toilers 
Moving in quiet grace about their task 
Of training vines around the small bared trees. 
Over the deepening valleys, plains and hills, 
The white roads wind in peace amid the fields 
That lie sea-deep In lovely harvestings. 
Afar the pallid cities cling like shades 
Against the mountains. All the land between 
Is decked with low-hung arches of the vine, 
And hedges brushed with bloom can barely hold 
The light-winged ecstasies of wooing birds. 

Amid the surging loveliness of Spring 
The broken towers of the city seem 
Like birdless nests in winter branches bare; 
And, set In strength, the old Etruscan arches 
Gaze and gaze upon their vanished dream, 

15 



These are your hills, oh men of burled days ! > 
Yours, though ye be not here with lordly step 

Stamping your own ! They speak in gentle tongue | 

Which once were scarred and branded by your i 

brawls ! i 
I see ye yet among them, men of old ! 

Out of the cloistered ages of the past \ 

Ye stare like aliens ! Not even death | 

Could conquer, quite, such lives. Its bonds are i 

frail i 

To hold such molten spirits, or to crush ■ 
Those wills that dared defiance to the world. 

Over your parapets of stone I lean, \ 

And let my sight have happy mastery \ 

Of fair, unravished Umbrian loveliness. \ 
Even here ye once were wont to lean 

And gaze upon the far, unconscious towns \ 

Like hawks upon a gray meek-breasted dove, \ 

Until your sight grew hot with your desire. ' 

Then ye might never cease until ye won ] 
Homage abject, possessed the lovely town 

Whether Assisi, Foligno, Spoleto, > 

Gubbio, Siena — stilling their dumb cries i 

With your long hands of war. \ 

\ 

Or else ye mark | 

Beyond the hidden hills a brother brood J 

Return from banishment. The exiled lords ) 
Return ! Ye spy them yet afar, that come 

To match the setting sun its gorgeous hues ^ 
With their assembled splendor. Slowly they wind 

Out of disfavored darkness, across the plains, \ 

i6 i 



The gracious sunned and shadowed Umbria, 

Up the hushed slope, beneath your downward gaze. 

Their way to long-awaited victory. 

But ever under surface of success 

Surged the deep sea of passions never quelled; 

And each in turn astride on fortune's crest 

Plunged to disaster. Hark ye to the next! 

The lords in turn lie dreaming all too long, 
Until their dream Is shattered and its light 
Is shed upon the morning of their foe! 
Long hid in barren nests and wind-roofed places 
Kneading and gathering forces of strong men. 
The men of common mould used well the years 
To make their leader, so to lead them home. 
The dreaming lords awake ! The fierce town rings 
With fighting cries, and down and down they 

swoop 
Like winds to sweep all opposition by. 
In vain, ye victims of relentless change ! 
The very winds that swept you to a deed 
Went over you and onward to new zones. 
As well for you to bide and mend your wounds 
Till with new daring you arose and caught 
The pinions of new winds to carry you ! 

Makers and marrers ! Too oft your eerie nest. 
Though set within Its battlements of stone. 
Was shaken by your flaming passions breath. 
The annals weary with your fruitless fights ! 
Is there no other note? Aye, here it reads: 
The gay child-hearts of ye that sang aloud 
Along the ages gray with history. 

17 



'TIs here we learn from you ! Ye wore delight 

Of earth and waking hearts as flower-wreaths 

To grace the feast of life; nor let the weight 

Of evils smother your glad-running step. 

I see your feasts, that sprang to utterance 

In joyful banners, silken, crested, swung 

'Neath winds of daring splendor; in arches 

wrought 
Into their form by daring artist hands, 
And set with capstone, quivering to the heights ! 
Delicate flowers held in bands of scent. 
Withstanding death until a farther morn 
That they might hang the world with garlands. 

Spears, 
Subdued to peace, couched dumb; and armors' 

clang 
Renounced its harsh reverberating voice 
To take on muffled, dulcet harmonies. 
Fierceness, clad in garment of content. 
Embraced the beauty of the captured hour 
Like an all-amorous hawk who bends him down 
To feel his blood unfevered running clear 
And lets his hot touch cool among the calms 
Of pleasure. Full the vintaged wines gushed forth 
From jewelled fountains into goblets chased 
By artisans with soul for pencil point. 
Golden speeches ran rare answers up 
To lift more silvery laughter, till the sky 
Leaned down to draw the music to its depth. 
Brave-floating plumes topped rich habiliments 
With pride of motion; caught the flowing sun; 
Dared the winds, and nodded gayly past. 
Pearls, thickly sewn as stars In firmament, 

l8 



Bedecked the dark-haired daughters of the land 
From whence shown out their own true beings' 

worth 
In voice, in eyes, in wild, sequestered heart. 
A sumptuous beauty theirs, close held within 
The cup of carven lineage proudly high 
At whose enchiselled brim the fire welled 
Unspilled. Endowed the maidens walked 
With hidden graces harbored as deep gold 
All latticed-windowed; till the ripened hour 
Called them to laughter, bloom and lavishment. 
For these the dark stones of Perugia lay 
Hidden beneath a wilderness of boughs 
Uprooted from the nursery of spring 
And fetched, all full of scent and vernal green, 
With lightest carol, thus to grace the town. 

What mattered ye the shadows o'er your feast? 
Whether the sudden treacheries that leapt 
Out of envious hearts to smite your joy; 
Or malice, or despair made black enough 
To deal its poison ; or the gaudy show 
Of powers and potentates that spun ye round 
With web of some disastrous loveliness 
By their bright goings mid your festivals; 
What mattered ye? The song was in your hearts. 
Your life was in the song. And all your battle- 
ments 
Put off their memories of war. They, too. 
Sprang into singing ! 

But, stranger marvel yet. 
Days were when halcyon lulls o'ercame your moods 

19 



With tender yearning toward dove-like calls 
That fluted o'er your wars. Then would ye cease 
Your hawk-like flights and quarrelings, to watch 
From these same parapets, the mediant forms 
Of men of peace, whose holy radiance went 
Like breath of roses o'er your spirits wounds; 
Aye, overflooded all the factioned world 
With singing of sweet wonder, which so filled 
The ears of men with heavenly ravishment 
They held mute faces up for purity. 
Ye loved and nurtured that immortal plot 
Of spiritual green which ran like light 
Out of the gray-worn convent solitudes, 
Under the burning gaze of splendid thrones, 
When creeds were crushed 'neath mitres august 

sway. 
Ran, and grew gay with radiant little flowers 
All water-fed with mercy, joy and love. 
Marvellous little plot ! its sweet endowment 
Drew ye to grace and bended knees, my wolves, 
And hallowed your stained natures. 

I fold the close-writ scroll. Such were ye 
Lords and slaves within yourselves as we, — 
May be more splendid, more of primal force. 
Awaking from the darkness of the past 
With too great heritage, and turning spendthrift; 
Lavishing your force, your passions, colors. 
Thoughts, desires, until yourselves and earth 
Were drained of life, and all the worn-out world 
Cried mercy. Now when all that splendid tide 
Has ebbed, we walk upon the shore and prize 
Each bit of wreckage as a monument. 

20 



INVOCATION 

Be near me, Spirit of Eternal Beauty! Stay- 
Not far, with resting wings upon the outer air; 
Where, in thine ineffable presence of pure prayer, 
The gathering heaviness of life must lift away. 

Such moments come when mortals, under own 

stress 
Oft too intense perception, feel a keen distress; 
When loveliness is pain which, scaling ever higher, 
Draws the spirit through divine refining fire. 

When it touches at the morn of high insight, 
Alight as is a branch with weight of crowning 

bloom, 
Too frail, too faint, it falls beneath its own delight 
Back into the bonds of long-used doom. 

Then leaning o'er the bars to breathe unprisoned 

air. 
Oh, then it finds Thee waiting, invisible and rare ! 
Mystic Consolation, Revealing Visitor, 
Unbodied Essence, souls' strange Progenitor! 

It meets thy spiritual gaze across the deep 
Translucent area of mooned and scented dark; 
It feels thy pinion's breath across the windless 

steep. 
Before thy voice its intuitions hark. 

Thy touch of calm forbids its further pilgrimage, 
Thou pausest at its eager hope of heritage. 
Then, as a bending mother whose little child is 
stilled, 

21 



Thou leavest with thy mystery of mission unful- 
filled. 

Oh, tell me, most immeasurable Being! — Thou, 
Through my closed lids whom I so well see, 
Are we only dreamers vouchsafed a dream of Thee 
Which temporally aureoles our spirit-brow? 

Must our fainting hands at death let fall forever 
All the garnered beauty, all the vainly sought? 
Frail flesh at failing the sweet links dissever 
Binding sense and spirit In immortal thought? 

Sweep thou thine answer through the waiting 

strings 
Of my harp soul; then with eternal hand 
Touch It again to silence ! May be I understand 
And hold the prescience of immortal things. 



22 



HERMIT THRUSH 

Upon the timeless hour, deep and still, 
When lesser song-birds seek their early nests, 
Far off adown the solemn aisles of air 

The vibrant tones are heard 

Which thou, oh hermit bird, 
Consumatest by melodious care, 
With exquisitely slow and long-drawn rests 
Between each finely-modulated trill. 

The tempered ocean's ever-measuring roll 
Remains in far abeyance from the shore; 
Down-fallen all the wind's unsheaved hoard 

Into a murmurous sound 

Along the odorous ground; 
When high from templed pine thou dost abroad 
Thy store of beauty lavishly outpour 
From the scarce sung recesses of thy soul. 

Doth the chaste temple of the moon contain, 
Imprisoned, thine enchanted spirit mate. 
Whose amber buried shape so faintly seen 

Wakens your lyric quest? 

Ah, woodland dreaming breast ! 
How camest thou by such yearning art to wean, 
Here where the sea-crests break the rock by hate, 
Their goal through virile mastery to gain? 

Oh, hermit, while thy wooing doth unfurl 
Its lyric sweetness o'er this chosen hour, 
The wide earth waits in quite ecstasy 

Before thy treasured throat, 

Each golden-measured note 

23 



Sinks in its bosom as a pearl down sea, 
Caught by a water queen within her bower 
And hostaged in a wave-swayed curl. 

Canst take my heart as jewel casket, say, 

So when the solitary days are drear 

And I no more may hold nor hallow them 

With glory that is gone, 

Thou pricelessly singst on 
This mythic sun-god's million-rippled gem. 
And leadest me on to touch with vision clear 
The treasured thought of this immortal day? 

Thy song unlooseth prisoned memories 
Of far-off morning forests where I met, 
Propitiant at haunted fairy rings. 

Deer's eyes across the gloom; 

And set my lyric bloom 
In dreams companioned by love murmurings 
On morning hillsides fragrance-filled and wet 
With lingering dews and fresh with minstrelsies. 

Hast ever sung in such brown beechen grove, 
Enriched with olden dignity and deep 
In sunken aeons of dark leaved soil. 

Where footstep falls across 

Successive knolls of moss 
Outbroken softly under bloomy spoil 
Of delicatest ferns that waving keep 
All cool the hanging lillies of our love? 

Oh bird of singing, lovest thou this land 
Whose vastness overweighs thy tender flight? 

24 



Doth the far-boasted freedom of the air 

Give promised buoyancy? 

Or lacks It not to thee 
Of primal splendor thy long-promised share? 
Nor suffers not thy virginal delight 
For old world touch of nature's time-stalned 
wand? 

I miss the faggot-gatherers old and dear, 
Who lean to earth with bent and weary back, 
Yet leave the woodland blest beyond their ken 

With aura of that dome 

Which hallowed them, when home 
With humble pittance they return again 
In after-glow of beauty. Alas the lack 
Of all such humble forest-beauty here f 

The happy woodsman by his haunted stream, 
The springing jodel of ebullient hearts 
From hill to hill ; the Invisible hands 

Of brotherhood twixt nature 

And every leaping creature ; — 
All clothed beliefs of those sweet, haunted lands 
Where Inner sense of beauty's truth Imparts 
A reverence to man's eternal dreams. 

Soon when the summer, ripening to Its goal, 
Lies richly caught amid yon bed of grasses, 
Or blown Into a level flare of light 

Along the mown leas. 

Or sunk In low-marsh seas. 
Thou wilt away upon thy stayless flight. 
Bequeathing me thy wonder-song which passes 
In long-continuing echo through the soul. 

as 



I know I must arise with garment fold 

A-trail with potency of buried song 

Whose richness yet enthralls ; must see my earth 

In her own beauty drest; 

Must still my dreaming breast 
Of imaged wonders lest I miss the birth 
Of vernal vision; lest these valleys throng 
With shy-brought gifts mine eyes may not behold. 

Then, come the Summer and thy song once more, 
I meet its sweetness with a spirit grown 
In measure of high reach that seeks to take 

Gifts of the golden past 

Into this region vast; 
Singing the while I weave them In the wake 
Of vanished languor, or lift them to be blown 
As shells upon my great sea-wondering shore. 



26 



THE FUCHSIA'S PROPHESY 

As were my vision like a pool 

In paradisial place, 
Its quiet depth perpetuates 

Their clear-hung mirrored grace. 

They follow me, their shadow 

Falls soft on everything. 
The faintest ghosts from fairy world 

That need remembering ! 

Oh, pale and crimson prophesy, 

A touch for either lid ! 
Reveal the world of waiting dreams 

That veil of weeping hid ! 

''By a lone shore with friends in grief 
Fond-leaning heart with heart 

You find, their tear-enshadowed tomb, 
Our cluster fallen athwart.'^ 

''Or lying clasped in beggar arms 

We by our beauty woo 
A tender change; for what you give 

Ourselves are offered you!^ 

Oh sweet enchantful prophesy. 
Thy pale and crimson tone 

Proclaims a light upon my way 
I had thought fall'n and gone ! 



27 



*Y« needle hours, when close you sit 

Lap-fulled with broideries, 
Your Mother leans to watch our birth 

Beneath your finders rise J* 

^'Yoiir Father, resting through the eve 

Within your bower-room, 
Enlingers near the casement bright 

As a bee o^er our bloom.'' 

Oh, pale and crimson prophesy! 

Such hours of grace for me 
My bleeding heart of bitterness 

Bind with humility ! 

*^When we soft-knotted in with grace, 
Upon your bride-breast lay. 

Your lover's lips will lean to kiss 
Our crimson hearts away." 

*'When he unpins us from your breast 

To loose the happy fold. 
Our troubled ghosts are mirrored new 

Within his heart of gold." 

Thou purple-gloried prophesy, 
Fold up your arras bright; 

My faltering lids may not endure 
Their sacred Inner sight. 



28 



THE RIVER-PATH 

I watch thee lead the people forth 
Beneath the daylight dawtning, 

And draw them back when quiet eve 
Descends with silent warning. 

The man with latent strength renewed, 
The child with soft locks braided, 

Young lads and maids with love-ways crude, 
And mothers early jaded. 

All pass beyond the distant hill 

Which hides their ways from me; 

I weave their humble tales until 
The night falls gradually. 

Then lo, they come by groups, in rows, 

Or solitary wending, 
While every one among them knows 

Some hand their hearth is tending. 

Oh Way, lead out the wide world over 

Where lonely farers roam ! 
Oh, tender Path beside the river, 

Lead thou my lover home I 



29 



THE GLEANER 

I left my lover at the town 

And swiftly went away 
To wander seeking, up and down, 

For one last summer day. 

I sought It, I found it, 
I listened close and long; 

I reaped It, I bound It 
Into a sheaf of song. 

At evening, with the falling moon. 

To town again I came; 
And laid It 'gainst my lover's shoon 

With a kiss of flame. 



30 



STARS 

Night I saw a golden star, 

Morn I saw none; 
Where between the night and morn 

Has the bright star gone? 

Star-Hke my lover came, 

Shining on my soul; 
Wondrous as a star he went 

To a veiled goal. 

Heaven holds no morning star 

Lighted 'til the even; 
Hearts holds Love, through morn and eve, 

High in her heaven. 



31 



THE HARPER 

The lonely land, the lone land 

That's set amid gray hosts of seas! 

Oh. I am In the lonely land 

Whose eaves adrip with memories ! 

Would a song come by East or West, 
It's 1 would set my harp atune : 

Or. shaken from the white-throat North, 
Aye me I Ed meet and greet the boon! 

Would a soft word blow up the South, 
Breaker of all my lonely woe, 

To the Love-land to the South Strand 
Its down Ed drop my harp and go ! 



32 



SONG: THE DESIROUS 

Oh would I were the sun, 

To flood thy heart with light, 

So when the day were done 

Thou wouldst regret my flight! 

Or were I but the air, love, 
To give thee sweetest breath, 

I could not from my darling move 
Lest I should give thee death. 

Yet were I but Life's shadow, 
To creep into thy heart, 

Of all thy secret thought 
Ed be a very part. 



33 



PATTERANS 

Crossed boughs of leafy green I lay 

Along the verge of spring; 
The secret sign, that shows the way 

For your remembering. 

Crossed boughs of still, autumnal leaves 

I weave at closing year; 
Though thy heart hear the wind that grieves, 

Thine eyes will read it clear. 

Farewell ! until my faltering path 

No longer leads alone; 
When all its strayed direction hath 

Grown blended with thine own ! 



34 



HIDDEN MEADOW : 

Away from river and shore, \ 

Alight with shimmer and sun, : 

I go by a secret path i 

Which leads in a wanton course; j 

Now over the open fields, j 

Wild as a leaping hare ! 

Bound for covert afar, j 

Now into the deep retreat | 

Of the cloistered trees in the woodland, j 

"Coming, coming," I cry ', 

Unto the Hidden Meadow. j 

Oifily a field to finish — \ 

Field where the riotous sun ' 
Spawns and spreads his splendor 

Over the grasses mown. I 

Hark! a young bird cries, j 

Seeking his buried nest; j 

A heart's call for his mate, | 

And I answer with a call. i 

Soon the wings of the distance | 

Will fold away from my vision, [ 
And I and my heart will be left 
Alone in the midst of the meadow. 
Hark ! a stir in the leaves, 
In the hedge beyond the clover 
Near the wild path whence I came! 

Is there coming another { 
Into this field of my own. 

Some other dreamer and rover i 

Ready to claim and to take ? I 
Shy of my secret I stand; 

35 \ 



Sure as a thief I must be, 

Or a miser over his store. i 

Hush ! it Is close at hand ! 'i 

.< 
Here is the old gray barn \ 

I remember so long ago. 
Silent and still It stands, 
A sentinel to warn 
Wanderers. Ah, me ! 

Gray old barn of the past, ■• 

Still have you stood all these years ^ 

Steadfast and growing to beauty, j 

Gathering gifts from the seasons, vj 

Color and contour and tone. 
These the Innate, the eternal, ■ 

Gradually given, bestowed 

Out of the plenum of beauty. \ 

Let me come unto thy temple 
In silence and meekness and love ! 
Nought have I gathered nor garnered; 
Nothing I touched or attained 
Stayed with me. All was fleeting. 
Dream and shadow of dream. ; 

Ever their forms elusive ^ 

Bent to me, touched and departed. 
Far and fair were they then, \ 

Fair and far are they now, \ 

Dream and shadow of dream ! ' 

Had I mated them with my will j 

Chance they had stayed to reveal, i 

Nested and brooded and borne. 
Then, on their wings I had flown \ 

36 i 



Out of this limit of self 
Through to empirical realms. 

Now to thee, Silent and Faithful, 

Temple and Altar abiding, 

Back from the call of the distance, 

Back from the wide earth's wonder. 

By the same little path of yore 

That leads through the broken woodland 

Into the Hidden Meadow, 

I come, I stand, I return. 

Let me receive from thee 

Some of thy wisdom of being! 

Wilful thinking and acting 

And mere wander-love to renounce. 

Only to stand and to be 

In quiet, unquestioning wisdom 

Restful, content and profound! 



37 



<^lv 



THE PEAR TREE IN BLOSSOM. 

It glistens in bridal brightness, 
Bedecked with gems of the sun; 

With golden promise of fruitage 
Blossom and bough are spun. 

It pales in the air of the evening, 

Weighted with revery. 
Veiling itself as a maiden 

With bridal modesty. 

Then, deep in the darkness enfolded. 

It dreams of a distant frost. 
The bridegroom beneath whose caresses 

Its beauty forever is lost. 



38 



HALF LIGHT 

Over my morning garden fell 
A slender shadow — I loved It well; 
But under the gradual glare of day 
The tender shadow vanished away. 

At night again, when the moon rose high, 
From the dreaming casement I could descry, 
Shy as a fawn on the silvery plain 
The delicate shadow had come again. 



39 



'TIN AL MARINA^' 

I passed an amber villa set on high 
Above the breaking music of the sea, 

Within a realm of sun and cloudless sky, 
Upon the crest of a declivity. 

Half cinctured by cool cypress to the south. 
To keep the untempered sun from breaking 
through. 

All free with silvery olives to the north 
That courted openly the sun's full view. 

Shadow and sun thus graciously combined 
To lay their gifts before the golden door. 

Where hidden lovers held their lives enshrined 
Within a dream of beauty evermore. 



40 



TWO GARDENS 

One overhung with sense of dreams still sleeping 
Beneath the breath of lilies past their bloom, 

A vigil through unawakened seasons keeping 
For some heard echo of predestined doom. 

One clearly offering its cool embrasure 
To vernal gifts of buds and melodies, 

Awake to welcome each appropriate pleasure 
That falls from golden leaved futurities. 

And neither of the other's nearness guessing. 
Because of leaf-enshadowed walls between. 

But, unawares, a mutual sky possessing. 
And one eve-star, empatronal, serene. 



41 



WATER FETE 

From the areas of evening 
Fell a sudden fairy dream, 

Laughing lights and hidden music, 
Jewelled boats upon the stream. 

Past the bank of sombre pine trees. 
O'er the dark and quiet river, 

Floats the laughing, lighted image 
On and past and out forever. 



42 



AN EGYPTIAN TOMB i 
I 

We watched the far Nile's beauty opaline 

Until Its last gleam vanished ; then we turned ] 
Toward the sands. There at thine entrance Thou, | 

Oh Desert haunted by Divinity, j 

Didst take our hearts, and gavest to our sight 1 

Thy long, low-couching vision that runs free ] 
To full horizon. Our thoughts became thy vestals. | 
Our feet were sandalled with thine awe that stills i 

The outer world to unreality; i 

And set to kingly rhythm upon thy high j 

White plains that He In bondage to the sun. ; 

The desert tidal wave with silent sweep l 
O'erwhelmed our spirit with a strange enchant- i 

ment ; ] 

And soon we entered Into the white blaze | 

Which is the raiment of that princely realm, \ 

The Valley of the Kings. Long amber cliffs | 

O'er which the mingling lights fell mazefully, j 

Reached out their sinuous length to draw us in ; 

Between their oracled recesses. | 

Day after day we took this burning route ] 

From river westward o'er the golden sands ] 

Toward the old necropolis of Kings. j 

And day by day we learned to worship more j 

The strange miraculous beauty of the realm — j 

Those tides of color, moving ebb and full, j 

From amethystine hues of shadeless day, I 
To gradual flood and surge of rose at eve, 

Over the vast and desolate solitude. \ 

43 



Far down the valley echoed the unseen 
Chorus of boys, one high voice shrilly leading, 
Others in sullen answer. Then the sight 
That might have been a Pharaoh's lofty way 
To level mountains for his monuments. 
Under the amber cliffs, like shadows clinging, 
Worked the gaunt Arabs, clad in flowing robes 
Of inappropriate grace and wielding slow 
The same small instruments of olden days. 
A line of brown boy children, scantly robed. 
Sang as they gathered loosened rock and drift 
Into their shallow baskets which they bore 
Away upon their heads with singing gait. 

One day the workers saw us still afar. 
And, running forth with inarticulate cries, 
Brought us to where, fresh cleared from muffling 

sands. 
There lay a rough-hewn flight of old worn stone. 
It was as if a voice rang suddenly 
Out of the tombs, and smote against our hearts; 
Then silent, held us hushed in deeper awe, 

II 

By feeble candle light 
The tunnel lead us downward through the dark. 
Intently creeping, fearful yet to move 
Further with each awed step, we reached a wall 
Built well of brick by those last laborers 
Who this walled In, upon a long-aged day 
The sacred burial. Here the priestly seal, 
Last human touch, unbroken met our eyes — 
Quiet Anubis couching his slim form 
Above bound rows of prisoners, with gaze 

44 



Set long In watching the eternal doors. 
And near, a rude stone bowl held still the clay 
With which the priest had sealed the dumb abode. 
The wall, half wrecked by thieves who long ago 
Ravished the fair virginity of death. 
Betrayed a nestled brood within the gloom. 
Flushed like a flock of birds, a color-cloud 
Of blue, of ivory, gold, and crimson winged 
Its sudden unimprisoned way to our amaze. 
This first swift breath of wonder, how it swept, 
Silent and sudden over reality 
Like trickery of magic to the sense ! 

The cave was filled with marvellous array 
Of funerary gifts beyond all hope 
Unbroken, exquisite, in actual, last. 
Untouched position, as the attending hearts 
Weeping had placed them in the sepulchre. 
A sea of vases, painted multitudes. 
Covered the sanded floor; and upright rows 
Of little shrine-like boxes stood serene, 
Close-shutting in the strange ushabti forms 
That waited on the dead in mystic service: — 
Tillers of everlasting fields, hewers of mild 
Mere dreamed of forests, drawters of sacred 

waters, — 
A faithful army, carven by artist hands 
From lucent alabaster; or stone o'erlaid 
With shimmering gold; or silver like a cloud 
In surface soft; or wood of sacred cedar. 
There in the plenteous midst, all housed around 
With dear home-offerings whose tender use 
Still waited through the long unliving years, 

45 



Heaped round with marvels lay the mummied j 
forms j 

Of two who waited their eternity! \ 

We seemed to tread the fabled shore | 

Of some dim underworld! For these were dead, | 
Long dead, but still they wore the living mask \ 

Of their humanity. They lay exposed I 

In desecrated coffins, still serene. 

Though thieving hands had long since hunted forth i 
Dear hidden jewels, amulets and charms \ 

Against the terrors of their journey grim. i 

Torn were the wrappings, wrenched at throat and 

breast; A 

Elsewhere the lovely folds of finest cloth J 

Still clung as priestly hands had so minutely 
Wrapped them down to the delicate finger tips. ', 

In gold emblazoned state, though rudely stirred, - 

The mummies lay, with faces beautiful I 

Like darkened bronze, and long straight forms out- 
lined 
Beneath worn cerements. '\ 



The lady of the dead lies quiet here 

As If in her fair home, when soon her will 

Would be to rise and set about her day 

Of gentle doing. Daintily are put 

Things of her finest taste to frame her. High 

And queenly must she be who haunts with grace 

The fragile little sofa, gold embossed. 

And the lady's chairs wait by her quietly 

Devoting unseen beauty to her dreams. 

Near for the lifting of her eager hand 

Her dainty table waits, wherein the tale 

46 



Of folded broideries and brooding hours 
Lies In sweet echo In the enchanted shrine. 
Near, lies a casket like a blue bird caught 
And set In the dark to dream of Its own blue 
Old Egypt wrought of laplslazull 
Encrusted deep with softly patterned gold. 

There was a most Ineffable soft air 
Of human pathos haunted that lone room, 
As If the spirit essayed yet to Inhabit 
The old familiar tenure of Its days. 
For the mute things lay brushed with flowery trace 
Of a dissolving presence. One dimly felt 
That time, long sealed without, scarce daring yet 
To touch the breathless verge, still hung aloof 
Lest the Imprisoned loveliness take wing 
And leave but crumbling sediment. The gloom 
Submitted slowly, singly, each new treasure 
So long held In Its mothering embrace. 
Low at our feet, half burled In the gloom 
A vase of ambered alabaster lay. 
The slender neck swept down Into the bloom 
Of perfect bowl; the handle curved to frail 
Twin lotus stems that ran In breathless flight 
Downward to break into the lotus flower 
Upon the bowl! To name the rare delight: 
Is it not Orpheus song, caught Into foam 
Afloat on gold-shored seas of classic lore? 
Or think we not of Psyche's finger-tip 
Holding light-poised a deathless butterfly? 
Or Hebe exquisitely holding up 
This chalice to the lips of the pale Gods? 
We lift it, cool and alabaster clear, 

47 



with actual touch, out of the golden gloom \ 
And straight we feel our hand-clasp with the dead i 

Rivet the strong bonds of humanity. ; 

High piled in ranks the sad meat offerings 

Lay in their ebon boxes still untouched ] 

As when the funerary feast was laid | 

Believingly. Had ever once the spirit I 

Returned to taste the fleshly food it knew? ] 

Once more returned to look upon the face I 

It bore in life? Then soft it came and went, 

And of the needs prepared, whate'er it took ) 

For nourishment departed as it came — ^ •' 

Touchless, unsensed, unbodied, strange and dim. ] 

As if sad little silver-shodden feet I 
Had come, and at the portal of dark death 
Slipped off their sandals, these all useless now 
Lay in mute waiting on the sanded floor. 

And we who held them listened wonderingly j 

To hear, along dim halls of underworld, } 

The passage of those feet that before death ^ 

Walked in them joyfully upon the earth. ; 

Harkening we heard them coming through the 

dark 

All delicate with dews and asphodel, '. 

Brushing with timid step the path that leads J 

To their own last abode, which walls away ] 

All less diaphanous substance. 1 

Come, oh Kaa ! i 
These are thy things and this thine habitation 

Which death hath not made strange to thee, nor ! 

set '. 

48 . 



In ruin. Still, though a shade, thou mayest reclaim 
The recollection sweet of earth's delights — 
Comfort, repose, food for thy hunger I See ! 
Thy chairs, thy bed, and for thine old life-dream- 

ing, 
This fallen rose, a cushion, softly wove 
Of finest fibre filled with down. Thy sleep 
Would be enwrapped with all its olden bliss; 
To whose invasion soft, relinquishing 
Thy starved limbs, thou soon woulds't utter low: 
"Ah bitter is immortality, fair fruit 
Barren of life's sweet kernel-coating sense ! 
I sleep, I sink in bliss ephemeral!" 

Thy chariot too is here which drew thee once 
Toward the confines of thy world, to stand 
Against thy battle foes. Rememberest thou 
The swift pang that arose as forth thou sentest 
Far arrows to the North? Or the proud scorn 
Which sat within thy breast as, conqueror, 
Thou sawest bound enemies beneath thy foot 
That trod the South in splendor? 

In this jar 
Of heavy alabaster scarce a slave 
Could carry, yellow and deep thy honied draught 
Lies liquid yet. 'Tis long since thou hast drank, 
Else thy fastidious taste had ne'er allowed 
The little upturned fly so long to lie 
Upon the amber surface deep within 
In such appalling insignificance ! 
'Chance death hath marred thy palate and no more 
Mayest cool thy throat with honey of warm bees, 
Or feel thy strange thirst satisfied with draughts 

49 



Pictured for thee In thousands of stone jars 
And numbered on the walls In scores and scores? 

No voice awakes, no stir disturbs the still 
Inviolate dusk where death so long hath lain 
Embalmed in Isolation. All is fled! 

Ill 

With solemn eyes we see the dead brought forth, 
The strangely dead whose human forms still hold 
The unloosed semblance of a soul once there. 
They come sore-clad In ancient cerements, 
Sealed in their slumber with crossed arms of peace. 
Out once again to their own desert's blaze 
Whence, buried ages back, they softly went 
Into their fair wrought sepulchre of dreams. 

Are these your Kings, oh venerable land, 

Who starred your lotus crown with splendid deeds 

When you, alone of all the unborn world 

Lay in full blooming beauty? Are these your 

Kings, 
Your Pharaohs, whose Immeasurable power 
Once to each whim held all the world a thrall? 

Nay, these come forth from their eternity 

Not as the God-descended Kings remote, 

But In more gentle and familiar way 

With common aureole of parenthood 

To win our love. They had been more enwrapt 

With filial love than Is the common lot 

Of Kings; for sorrow housed with them and hung 

Mourning about their sepulchre. Each gift 

50 



Disclosed a lingering tenderness. Some daughter's 

hand 
Wrote messages of woe; and twined her gifts ^ 

With scenes of her distress. Some lordly son 
Tokens of sorrow brought In reverence. ; 

And tears of a lovely queen fell softly once ^ 

Upon this golden burial. \ 

Who are these? ' 

No Kings, though lain amid the Vale of Kings 
Uncrowned, save by such offering of love. 
Unsung save in their tomb. Who then are these? 

Go first and gather 'mid the storied queens 

The dearest of them, fabled TiyI, who moved 

As the moon-goddess self, untraced and dim, 

Within the dream-wrapped dynasties of old. 

A stranger to the palace of the King 

She came. The lordly Pharaoh lifted her i 

And set her high in honor over all. | 

"The beloved of the breast of him j 

Who trod the earth In splendor." ''His small ^ 

love" 
Lingering at his knee In lowliness ; ^ j 

His great queen, sharing his memorials. j 

None knew if she were of dim eastern stem 
Brought from some house, unsung save by the j 
harp : 

Of her high beauty. Or with an Idle glance 
Had the Egyptian Pharaoh looking down \ 

Among his subjects, chosen this one soul, j 

Knowing its rarity? The price of her ^ I 

Was suffering such as wakened thought entails, 
Bearing the soul it wakes to Isolation. : 

51 I 



She fixed their inward vision far beyond 

Its own accustomed close, until in time 

Her young lord son stood out against his realm, 

Uprooted the old faiths and stilted rule 

Of Theban Ra; while her poetic voice 

Breathed to him all her delicate beliefs 

That broke like blossoms through his heart and led 

Him forth to raise new spiritual creed 

In canticle to Aten. Wave of belief too high, 

It ebbed on shores of old Idolatry, 

Leaving the two who called It from the void 

Outcast In memory. But through the scarred 

Memorials the fame of TiyI survived. 

Here at this burled shrine she seems to kneel 
Divested of all mystery and sweet 
With grieving daughterhood. For in this tomb 
She hid her parentage. 

Oh Solemn Dead 
How touchlngly ye come to us, bearing 
Your names In piteous dignity! We give 
All honor as we read. Thou loulya, 
Lord of her beside thee lying low, 
And parent of her we praise, thy daughter Tlyl; 
Honored of Kings, holding high offices 
Of royal steward, Keeper of granaries, 
Thy King was son to thee, and dear thy head 
To all the Kingdom. But most dear 
Through thy great fatherhood to history. 

The mother Touiyou lies in peace beside 
Her mate through this Strang dream of being 
dead. 

52 



Richly and lovingly her child Inscribed 
Full wealth of titles writ In delicate bands 
Across her case of gold. Fair Mother-form 
Indeed we love thee ! So strangely motherly 
Thou seemest to us, grim no more the death 
That floods the centuries between us grey. 
For out of time's dull waves as a mute dove, 
Springs thine exultant tenderness ! 

So lay 
The reverential burden In the blaze 
Of this same worshipped sunlight, desert pure. 
Which saw the early panoply of grief 
Enter this desert lair. Piteous now and full 
Of a deserted splendor, as a sun 
Long set and rotting In effulgence, lies 
This priceless hoard upon the sudden verge 
Of Its corruption. Wonderful and free 
Within their long unbroken slumber lie 
These honored two. Nought now to them 
Is this rude stirring of their dreams, and nought 
The wreckage of their sinister abode. 

We fold again 
The winding sheet of linen, saffron dyed. 
Whose weave Is beauteous forever; lay 
The horizontal bands of roseate hue — 
Two from head to foot and two across — 
That held the wrappings. Softly we replace 
The simple necklace of dried bloom upon 
Their breasts again— blossom it is of sunt 
Whose sharp scent feeds the gloomy under air 
Of tombs with breath of sun-hot level fields, 

53 



And cools the sleeping thought with fragrant 

dreams. 
So, lapped by quiet waves of memory 
That float them ever on Its deathless tide, 
They may not mourn. Turns now across the sands 
The sacred file, retracing solemnly 
Its dim remembered coming long ago. 
Now may our hands hold faithful stewardship 
That bring their precious burden back from death 
And at the world's high altar lay it down. 



54 



POET 

As stood Apollo In the lillied dawn 
With startled lyre, when'as the doom Immense 
Of Titans lifted him to the Intense 

Experience of godhood newly born; 

So stoodest thou, Poet, In thine early morn, 
Feeling the keen pain of prophetic sense 
Flush thy mortality, in recompense 

For earthly loneliness. Thus spirit-born, 

Astray from dreams, we find thine instrument 
Flight-dropped amid a fairy host of flowers, 
Enguarding deep within its resonant heart 
The rare bequest of thine Immortal art; 
Whence we, as thou e'en didst from heavenly pow- 
ers. 
Receive our spiritual sacrament. 



55 



RONDEAU 

To Mme. J. 

The lilies In my garden-close 

Are fragrant, fair, and full of grace; 

They range against an azure space 
Their beauteous blooms in ordered rows. 
When far the summer season goes 

And leaves my wintered sight no trace 
Of lilies in my garden-close. 

So fragrant fair, and full of grace; 
I looked upon my lady's face 
Where lo ! their vanished radiance glows ; 
Each variation of her pose 

Through subtle motion doth replace 
The lilies in my garden-close. 



56 



POND LILIES 
To Lucy W. 

Within the water's shallow glare 
White shade you weave, Pond Lily; 

A wonder-cup of woodland share 
Your crowned head, Pond Lily! 

Within the labyrinth of days, 

White threads you weave, Pond Lily; 
And all who near your broidered maze 

See clear at eve, Pond Lily ! 



57 



YOUTH 
To Theo 

All the world is empty, | 

My delight is gone; ] 

Starless comes the evening, 
Sunless goes the morn. 

Light of heart and foot, | 

He is faring free ) 

Where the young world widens i 

In activity. 1 

\ 

Where the song is singing ; 

He is happiest, : 

Answer to the calling | 

Rises In his breast, i 

And his young joy stamps the rhythm | 

For his feet upon the quest. 



58 



MOON-DREAMS 

Shut out the little moon, 

The winds arise, 
All sweet serenity of gold 

Is blotted from the skies. 
And all too soon 

Her fairy reign is told — 
Shut out the little moon. 

Shut out the little dreams, 

For life is here 
To bid us loosen from our grasp 

The treasures that our hearts hold dear, 
The golden beams 

Our eager hands would clasp — 
Shut out the little dreams. 



59 



HOPE'S YEAR 

Lightly in the springtime, 

Up the leafy slope, 
Sped the winged maiden — 

Silver-cinctured Hope. 

Joyful on the levels. 

Summer-long she played; 

Till the scythe of harvest 
To the bloom was laid. 

Downward through the autumn 
Went in solemn ways. 

With a purple shadow 
Sorrowing her gaze. 

As the snows engulfed her. 
North and east and west, 

Held eternal embers 

Banked within her breast. 



60 



AUTUMN UNDERTONE 

Silvery shallows slipping along, 
Tender and low is your evening song; 
Birds on your bordering glades are still, 
Light has gone from the low, green hill, 
Fallen the petals of wild, sweet roses, 
Shadows shorten and summer closes. 

Little, slim shallows, sweet and clear. 
Ye ripple on, in the autumn drear. 
Strong is the law that ye obey, 
Not to vary, and not to stay. 
The seasons fall from the waning shore, 
The sound of the bird Is heard no more; 
But the force of the law doth ever abide 
In the rhythmic flow of the faithful tide. 



6i 



THREE PRAYERS 

Mary, maiden Mary, may T make my praise to thee 
While I weave a chaplet of the days that are to be? 

Maid of mercy, pure within. 

Grant me gladness without sin ; 

While the world is fair and gay 

Walk with me upon the way. 
Maiden Mary, kiss my soul to thine own purity! 

Mary, Mother Mary, take my gift of womanhood. 
Lean to me and hold me in a holy sisterhood ! 

Spirit-led and passion-willed, 

To the realm of love fulfilled 

Lo ! I come and proudly claim 

Woman's crown in thy name. 
Mother Mary, grant me all thy grace of pleni- 
tude ! 

Mary, Martyr Mary, in the hour of my tears 
Stoop and cleanse my spirit from its heritance of 
fears. 

Touch me with thy holy sense 

Of sorrow's deep munificence, 

Bind for me mine earthly eyes 

That I may see paradise 
Rise a flowery vision through the vista of the years ! 



62 



SISTER WINGS 

Wild birds, fly to me 

Out of the high sky ; 
Wild birds, cry to me 

As ye pass by! 

Ye brush o'er the quiet meadow 
Out on your way to the sea; 

Whither fare ye, sweeping 
Over the meadow and me ? 

Wings, oh wings of yearning. 
Call to your hidden mate 

Deep In my bosom dwelling; 
Oh wings of yearning, wait! 

But on In the shadowy evening. 
Out to the shoreless deep. 

Ever aloof o'er the quiet earth 
Ye silently onward sweep. 

Wild birds, carry me 

On your wild flight! 
Wild birds, marry me 

To Heaven's height! 



63 



TRANSMUTATION. j 

Fires die down at night | 

That flamed all day; | 

Thoughts, too, sink into sleep \ 

Like ashes gray. ; 

Gray, but alert for dawn j 

New risen and rosy, | 

When fire and thought, reborn, \ 
Flush a faint posy. 

All through aerial time '\ 

Dark and light intermingle ; | 

No shade of grief or joy j 

Goes unspun and single 1 \ 



64 



WHOxM HE LOVETH 

Of tears and anguishes and ills 

God's hand solicitous 
With intuition sure distils 

A spirit-draught for us. 

Our songs and laughters and delights 

Are happy sparks that fly 
Beneath the smiting hammer-strokes 

God's hand too doth apply. 

'Tis now of weal and nowi of woe 

Our portion yet must be; 
For so God's hand shapes strong and slow 

Our soul's infinity. 



65 



INNER PEACE 

How sweet the summer winds that pass 

Melodiously through 
The straight-rowed orchard's cooling aisles 

From fount of endless blue ! 

The sheared sheep here wander by 

In noontide idleness, 
With choice of equal sun and shade 

Each gentle mood to bless. 

Their simple lives well-ordered go 

Serene from field to fold, 
Nor ever bird or star aloft 

Do their dim eyes behold. 

And looking on the gentle scene 

Our lives engrossing cares 
Sink into their proportioned place 

And leave us nature's heirs. 



66 



THE CAMEL-DRIVER 

In the glaring noon 

I hear him croon 
A quavering rhythmic chant; 

I see him swing 

Like a witless thing 
On the camel's hump aslant. 

Riding high 

'Neath a burning sky 
He dreams of the palm-shade far; 

And at evening's glow 

His lone thoughts go 
To the cool of the evening star. 

Never he cares 

For the burden he bears 
From the desert down to the river; 

While he and his heart 

May live apart 
In the realm of his dreams forever. 



67 



"ARAIGNEE DU SOIR, ESPOIR'* 

"Spinner at silvery loom, 

Strange you should shyly take 

Time of delicate gloom 
For a fine task's sake ! 

An' you give me a thread tonight 
Faith, I could fairly spin, 
Out of Its slender beam, 
A dazzling woof 
To the star aloof 
Deep to Its heart within." 
Spin, spin, in the pale twilight, 
Spider and heart d dream! 

The spider ended his task, 

A fabric so frail and clear 
Scarce through a summer night 

Would its fine mesh wear. 

The lover he wove and wove 

A miracle of song; 
And set It singing afar. 
So fine and sweet. 
To his dear love's feet 
Ever the evening long. 
For she to his eyes was the shining star 
Set in the sky above. 



68 j 



BEE SONG 

Yellow bee, yellow bee, 
Deep honey lover. 

Have you forgotten that 
Summer Is over? 

You and your winged train 

Linger here all in vain. 

Never to nest again, 
Improvident rover! 

Once what a joy you had 

In the fair season. 
When with your duty clear 

Life had a reason ! 
Now when the flower-bloom 
Yielded hath unto doom. 
For you there is no room — 

Staying is treason ! 

Yellow bee, yellow bee. 

Far from me flying, 
Thou art the emblem of 

Summer a-dying. 
Golden the shadow cast 
By all things overpast. 
Until their track at last 
Leads homeward skying. 



69 



IN TRINITY GARDEN, OXFORD 

Where are your unseen nests, 
Oh doves of invisible voices? 
Rear your plumaged throats 
Out of the branches embrasure 
Into my vision! 

None of the full trees tell 
Where your soft breasts lie brooding, 
Saving the clear-boughed cedar 
Whose stately branches do honor 
To guests in the garden. 

Level the fair lawn lies, 
Meek amid bordering leafage of 
Lime tree, locust and larch. 
Slowly the daylight is shortened 
Under their umbrage. 

Lured by your murmuring notes. 
Under the ivied darkness 
A gold eyed, black cat stalks, 
Haunted by phantoms of vision 
As we of desire! 

Have ye no answer innate 
Hid in your ancient language? 
Oh oracles, hidden above us. 
Delicate, wise and abiding. 
Solve our enigma ! 



70 



When the late chimes fall faint 
Adown from the grey-statued tower, 
Sink ye to feathery rest ; 
Peace then, oh doves, from your bosoms 
Blesses the garden. 



71 



ERRANT ARTEMIS 

High 

In the sky 

The lonely moon is riding; 

Least 

In the East 

Of all the host abiding. 

Young, 

To be swung 

Within the sphere immense; 

Frail, 

Not to quail 

Before such eminence. 

With a touch 

Of such 

God-endowered grace, 

Emboldening, 

As goldening. 

She rises into space. 

Until 

She doth will 

To poise her young divinity 

Aloft 

In the croft 

Of infinity. 

Ceased 

Hath the feast 
Among Immortal Peers; 
72 



Bereft, 

When she left 

To seek the open spheres. 

Fain 

They to strain 

Far immortal gaze; 

Afraid 

Lest the maid 

Lose the heavenly ways. 

Far 

As a star 

She attains her quest; 

Then shining, 

As declining. 

She seeks the darkened West; 

Where, 

Glowing fair. 

An earth-child she lies. 

Deep 

In a sleep 

Devoid of memories. 

And dreams 

That she seems, 

From their sight sunken under, 

To smile 

All the while 

At the god's wonder. 



73 



TBE WHITE HOUSE GARDEN IN MAY. \ 

All enclosed by a railing high, j 

Under a sapphire evening sky, * 

Lingers a lovely scene, ; 
Scene that a fairy wand had striven 

To win for a palace in fairy heaven < 

Fit for a fairy queen. '• 

Crowned with the blossoming bushes of May, i 
Downward the low, little hills survey 

The level of grassy space ] 
Daintily set in garlands of bloom, 

O'erhung by the larches' dreamy gloom I 

And the willowy wands' young grace. j 

Flowering quince and the bridal wreath j 

Bewilder the air by their mingled breath, I 

And delicate deutzias white, i 

Set like shimmering frost between { 

Sheath-like yuccas of darker green, i 

Leap to a flowering flight. ^ 



Sweet at the tall trees' hidden roots 
The daffodils and narcissus shoots 

Stand in their frank attire; 
Looking aloft to the embowering trees 
Stirred by the young birds faint unease 

Under their song desire. 



74 1 



Soft storm clouds of purpurial hue 
Veil the face of the sun from view; 

MingHng shadow and gleam 
Flicker and flare in a fairy dance 
Faint as a garment's waving glance 

In a dissolving dream. 

A fountain, lily-and iris-ringed, 
Springs as a naiad spirit-winged 
Forth to the ether away ; 
Soon again is her form withdrawn 
Back to the earth by the arms of a faun 
Tired of piping and play. 

The central spray from its airy wrack 
Falls in diaphanous motion back. 

Faint on the surface of air; 
The outer encircling jets are thrown 
Into the bowl with bubble and moan 

O'erbrimming in fulness there. 

Fair and far through the twilight veil 
Gleams the enmarbled beauty pale 

Of arch and of colonnade; 
Where a temple of Grecian art. 
Simple and pure in whole and in part, 

Is set in the sylvan glade. 

Slow as the exquisite hour glides 

High o'er the heavens the young moon rides 

Stilling the garden to rest; 
And the burden of sweetness, overflowing, 
Sinks in a haven beyond its knowing 

Deep in the human breast. 
75 



ODE TO POLYMNIA 

For Pauline R. 

Muse Immortal ! turn thy solemn eyes 
Adown from thy Parnassian Paradise ! 

Hath not its echo caught thee, 
This 'passioned wonder of deep melody 
Now held, now lifted high in ecstasy. 

Like chaliced incense brought thee? 

Oh, hark ! 'round thy celestial abode 
Thy swaying lilies herald forth her mood 

Who serveth at thy shrine; 
This maid immortal, child of mortal earth, — 
Yet ask thy guardian lilies of her worth, 

Oh, Fount of Sound Divine ! 

They herald her who, worshipping thy wonder. 
Grew tranced and went uplifted as one under 

Thy gracious stigmata; 
Since when she moves among us ministrant. 
Yet ever stands with hands propitiant 

Before thy flame-white altar. 

My gaze hath often set in sweet dismaying 
Upon her lithe, blest fingers at their playing; 

Or in a pained delight 
Watched the white sweep of pallor o'er her face 
As, too intensely touched by spirit grace, 

She curtained her insight. 

Thou knowest. Sacred Maiden, but for this 
Her faintness, far too deep of intense bliss 
Our clod-housed souls would drink; 

76 



So fall her fair hands dumb, when to thy throne 
She bears and holds us upward one by one 
A moment e'er we sink. 

Scarce had our vision delicately seen, 
Substantiate, Helicon and Hippocrene, 

Nor felt the wafted breath 
Of presences whose glory in a gleam 
Shoot earthward, mortalized within our dream 

As we in death. 

When the loosed magic of her harmonies 
Scatters sound-petals, well had one of these, 

Pressed close to thy mute breast. 
Won thy divinity, drawn thy yearning feet 
Down to the earth's ways, perilously sweet 

To thy divine unrest. 

Oh, templed in her, what if it were Thou? 
Those tresses honey-hued around her brow 

That givest them their toss? 
Whose prisoned visage, seen a moment there 
In hers incarnate, sent a sudden flare 

Our burning sight across? 

What if her eyelids, drooping with deep awe, 
Down-weighted were by what thy whisper bore 

Of couchant miracle? 
If leans thy being inwardly to hers 
Soft as a marsh reed to the wind that stirs 

The air to oracle? 



77 



She rises with a llly-motlon swayed, 

Back from the pressure which thy presence made 

During thine incarnation; 
The Irised tissues of thy garment's weave 
In hostaged beauty lingeringly cleave 

To her thy habitation. 

In such wise, Visitant Immortal, deign, 
Between thy comings, that we have again 

The fulness of her nature; 
To infuse each vein and bruised filament 
With store of mortal sweetness, they being spent 

By their divine inflature. 

When won from thine immortalizing fire 
Ere it hath reft her of all earth-desire. 

Oh, strangely tralt'rous, we 
Torture her sister soul with chrismal share 
Of tears, then loose It carrier-winged to bear 

Our burden back to thee ! 

For thus through her we hear our own heart's story 
Take birth within this rainbow- fountained glory, 

Gushing its beauty mortal 
On some far threshold where, oh Goddess 

Maiden, 
Thou to this burden wherewith we were laden 

Openest thy deathless portal. 



78 



TO CHILDREN 



LITTLE LIVES 

Oh little lives with folded wings, 
Oh little hearts still sleeping, 

Oh little feet that seek the way. 
Oh eyes unused to weeping; 

How many wings you spur to flight, 
How many hearts you waken ! 

How many lost ones you have lead, 
How many tears have slaken ! 



CHILD SONG 

The sun and the day have run away 

Over the hills In the West; 
And the little lambs He beneath the sky 

In innocent rest. 

From every ship the white sails slip. 

The cowslip petals close; 
And a shy little bird gives a good-night word 

Ere the daylight goes. 

Sweet and long was the summer song 

Sung to a summer tune; 
And a little child prays that to-morrow's rays 

Will brighten the hill-top soon. 



8i 



WAYSIDE SONG 

Grey little church In the valley, 
Green little sheep-flecked hill; 

Little rose-cloud in the heaven, 
And evening calm and still. 

Prayer in the quiet valley. 
Peace on the placid heath; 

Joy in the rosy heaven, 

Dreams in the hearts beneath. 

PLAYMATES 

Butterflies and babies, 
Wings and little feet. 

Playing all the morning 
In the meadow sweet. 

All the summer morning 
Let them dance and play, 

But when evening cometh 
Cuddle them away. 



82 



BLOSSOMS 

A little tree 
So blithe to see 
With blossoms all alit; 
Dear little heart 
How like thou art 
To it! 

Its shadow small 
Falls scarce at all 
Upon the patient grass; 
And thine is quite 
As soft and light, 
My lass. 

In pink and white 
It is bedight 
Full fair and sweet to see; 
In daintiness 
And graciousness 
Like thee. 

It is so young 
No birds have sung 
Within its boughs. They fear 
It is a stray 
And naughty fay 
Dropped here ! 



83 



SECRET VOYAGE 

Through pearly waters and violet, 

Toward the close of day, 
A little bark with winged sails 

Wafted its gentle way. 

Under the ancient amber cliffs 

Its lightsome way it bore, 
Soft as a little dream escaped 

From the bondaged time of yore. 

Oh, where are you going, little bark. 
That may not stay your flight? 

What distant shore do you hope to gain 
Before the close of night? 

No answer sent the little bark, 

But silently sailed on. 
Until it was a tiny speck 

Upon the setting sun. 



84 



A DUET 

Sailing along at the end of day, 
When the sun had sunk to rest, 

And the naughty httle clouds of gold 
Ran out of their home in the west, 

I heard the song of the merry frogs 

Upon the river shore, 
And high above in the quiet cliff 

A little owl I saw. 

The frolicsome frogs sang loud and clear 

Of many pleasant things. 
But the mournful little owl sat dumb, 

A dreaming of dead kings. 



CHURCH BELLS 

In summer-time and winter 

The little church bell rings. 
Morning, noon and evening, 

For people and for kings, 
To sing their hymns and say their prayers 

And other holy things. 

In every land a church bell rings 

And people gather there 
Just as we do, with bended heads 

And hands clasped tight In prayer. 
And all are glad because they know 

That God is everywhere. 
8s 



SHIPS 



Two white sails peep over the hill, i 

How strange it seems to me! 
For who would dream that the meadow-land 

Led to the wide grey sea ? 

The wide grey sea beyond the walls 

Where ships go out at night 

So far, so far, they can't return \ 

When comes the morning light. ^ 

But on must sail, and on and on, j 

All day and night and day, 'i 

Until they spy another land, \ 

Though it be far away. ] 

Poor ships that cannot stay at home, j 

I hope that you will find 1 

As sweet a shore and bright a sun j 

As you have left behind. ] 



86 



LIGHT AND SHADOW 

Sunshine and morning hours 
Bring to beds of waving flowers. 
Bees and butterflies so bright 
That love the honey and the light. 

Day done, and evening hours 
Bring repose to weary flowers. 
In the still and darkening air 
Not a bee may linger there. 



THE EARTH AND LITTLE CHILDREN 

Hither, children! Hush and hear! 
Now's the flowery time of year. 
When with opening flower and leaf 
Everything feels glad relief. 

Let your little hearts sing madly, 
And your voices ring out gladly; 
Dance and call, fairies all. 
In a pretty madrigal. 

See how fair the earth is drest, 
In the springtime loveliest; 
Like a little child whose gladness 
Charms away our winter sadness. 

Happy earth, all full of singing, 
Joy to little children bringing. 

87 



A CHANGE OF MIND 

Upon the road 
I met a toad 

Near by the garden bright; 
'Twas spotted brown 
From feet to crown, 

A most amazing sight! 

It looked so queer 
And hopped so near 

I quickly turned away 
And meekly said : 
"My poppy bed 

I'll see another day." 



88 



SUMMER MORNING 

Bees in the larkspur 

Busily burrowing 
Setting the flower-bells ringing; 

Birds in the bushes 

Flitting and fluttering, 
Filling the copses with singing. 

Blue eyes opening 

Wide from their slumbering 
Ever so far away; 

Little hearts, little hands 

In other lands, 
I wish you were here to play ! 



89^ 



IN MAY 
To Eleanor 

It was a pleasant afternoon 

When we went forth from town 

To take the air and view the scene 
And wander up and down. 

We visited a pretty house 
And found it was too small ; 

We peered about and praised it well 
And made a pleasant call. 

Then up the road until we reached 
The Club-House cool and free; 

We sat upon the lawfn and there 
Had toast and jam and tea. 

A pretty view of sloping green, 

A grove of shady trees; 
And far away, the distant hills 

Across the misty leas. 

At cool of eve, refreshed and sweet, 
We came contented home; 

As doves, all day upon the wing, 
Do softly, surely come. 



90 



WATTIE'S GARDEN 

I put the small seeds in the ground 

With proper space between; 
I cleared and smoothed the earth around, 

And kept it nice and clean. 

A tiny blade of green pushed through 

The dark and heavy earth ; 
And soon a little pair of leaves 

Unfolded into birth. 

Another blade, another blade 

Till all the place was full; 
And soon so many leaves uncurled 

A few I had to pull. 

I watched and loved them every day 
And watered them when dry; 

I brushed the rose-bugs all away 
And weeded carefully. 

Through sun and rain and fog and wlind 
They grew and grew and grew. 

Until a lovely garden fair 
Lay open to the view. 

Oh hollyhocks and fox gloves, 

Arise up tall and sweet; 
While garden pinks and coxcombs bright 

Are blooming at my feet. 



91 



Big canterbury bells of blue 

Are ringing silently; 
And columbines are shining bright 

As moonlight on the sea. 

White plumes of spiarea wave 

Just handy to my reach 
So I may pluck them for my friends 

And give a plume to each. 

The lovely roses planted near 

Are not my really own, 
They are my Mummy dear's but still 

I love them every one. 

And here amid the garden flowers 

In fairy land I roam 
While all the time I'm just as near 

As I can be to home. 



92 



PEGGY SWEET 

Prim little Peg came out to me 
Curled and smocked and sweet to see. 
I wanted to hold her on my knee 
And keep her forever there; but she, 
Light as a cloud o'er a summer sea, 
Floated away from me airily. 
For all things mortal elusive be 
Because of their immortality. 



93 



BROTHERHOOD 

A path across the meadow 

Diagonal and far, 
Leads me to the waving place 

Where the rushes are. 

Rushes oh ! and Iris 

Where the finches sing; 

Beauty on the lowly earth, 
Sweetness on the wing. 

Let us, like the wild birds 
Pluck and eat a berry; 

All the world is full of glee. 
We too will be merry. 

Run and laugh and play. 
On the wave of wonder; 

If your heart is light 
You will not slip under. 



94 



CLOVER'S HUMMING SONG 

I must flower and overbrim 

So my lover the bee 
Will come from afar 

To suck honey from me. 

Bee law will bring him 

Wide the world over; 
He Is my own bee, 

I am his clover. 

Flower and fill the cup 

With sun and honey, 
Shadows and pearls of rain 

Must be made sunny. 

Clover of rose and sweet, 

Walt I the morning 
When my far lover-bee 

Comes with gold crowning. 



95 



GARDEN SONG 

Rain in the garden 

Falling fresh and sweet, 
Cooling the flowers 

After noon-day heat. 

Robins after rainfall 

In the wet sun; 
Primroses folding, 

And the day is done. 



96 



